


Tarnish

by gemjam



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 07:16:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemjam/pseuds/gemjam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a violent attack, Mark is left in need of support, even if he's not quite sure how to admit it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tarnish

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to zeraparker@livejournal for her reassurance and encouragement and for looking this over for me.

Mark couldn’t open his eyelids. They weren’t glued shut, they were just really fucking heavy. His whole body was heavy. He felt it heave, a violent convulsion, and his vomit splattered onto the gravelly pavement beneath him. He tried to shift back, repulsed by the stench, but he couldn’t make himself move, his sluggish body refusing to accept the signals from his brain. When he finally shuffled slightly, he felt the uneven floor scrape his bare hip. Bare hip? His fingers fumbled, finding his trousers unfastened, shoved slightly down. He tried to pull them but his fingers wouldn’t grip the fabric properly. He took a shaky breath, feeling shivery and cold, his eyes finally opening.

He could see the pub or at least the top half of it. He was around the back, hidden behind the small stone wall. All the lights were out. They’d left him. His body heaved again and he felt a wave of dizziness as unconsciousness tried to call him back in. He summoned all of his strength and pushed himself up with his arms until he finally clambered to all fours. Pain seized his body and it took him a moment to realise where it was coming from. He dropped back down into the vomit, giving a helpless sob, his eyes closing once more.

He didn’t know how much longer it was until he woke again. His mouth was dry and foul tasting, his body shaking from the cold, curled in on itself. The pain was still there, hot and sharp with every shiver of his body. His head was still hazy, thoughts sluggish and indistinct. He had to move, he knew that much. He had to make himself get up or he was scared there’d be nothing left of him to find by morning.

He placed his hands on the floor, his arms shaking as he pushed himself upwards, struggling to take his own weight. He finally managed to balance himself somewhat upright, one arm still held out to support himself. The pain ripped through him anew as he settled on his arse and he cried out, a flash of white threatened to make him pass out again. He breathed deeply but every exhale still came out as ragged and pained as the last.

With his free hand he groped around, several minutes of numb, fumbling fingers finally producing his phone from his pocket. Who was he supposed to call? The police? An ambulance? No, he couldn’t face that. He couldn’t own up to this. It would all go away so much quicker if nobody knew. He flicked through his contacts, looking for someone he could trust, but the light hurt his eyes and he could barely make out the names. His fingers were unsteady, ineffectual at using the touch screen display. He wanted to cry in frustration and hopelessness, desperate for something to make sense. He just needed to get home. He just needed someone to pick him up and put him in his own bed and maybe this would be alright.

He squinted at the screen, groaning softly as his pupils seemed to burn with the effort. _Christian._ The name shone out like a beacon. Christian was the boss. Christian would be able to fix this. Mark jabbed at his name on the screen until he finally managed to coordinate himself enough to make the call.

“Hello?” Christian’s voice was rough with sleep and more than a little annoyed. Mark shrunk away, his throat constricting around any possible words. “Mark?” Christian asked with clear irritation.

“Can...” Mark began, his voice croaking. He gave a small cough, his throat feeling raw and scratchy. He made a pained noise and tried again. “Come get me?”

“What?” Christian asked. “Are you drunk? Call a taxi.”

“Please,” Mark urged, putting every ounce of desperation he had into the word. It didn’t take much effort to sound as broken as he was.

“Mark, it’s four in the morning,” Christian said wearily.

“Please,” Mark said again. He could feel a dampness on his face, a sob welling up in his throat.

“Where are you?” Christian asked, his voice resigned and just a little concerned.

“Pub,” Mark managed. He could feel himself swaying with the effort to stay upright, his head spinning unpleasantly. He didn’t want to pass out again. It wasn’t safe.

“What pub?” Christian asked.

Mark felt the phone slip from his fingers, using both arms to steady himself as the world tilted dangerously. His stomach heaved, forcing him to wretch hopelessly, nothing left to throw up. He felt his arms slipping, felt himself sinking back down.

“Mark?” Christian’s voice was distant, as far away and useless as he was. Mark just groaned in response. “Mark!” There was a desperation in the tone that made Mark reach out a hand, blindly scrambling around on the uneven ground until he found the phone.

“Help,” he managed to croak out.

“Where are you?” Christian asked. His voice was clear and alert now. “The Stag?”

“Yes,” Mark said, the word coming out so tiny. He gave a hopeless little sob. “Please.”

“I’m on my way,” Christian assured him. “Are you on your own?”

“They left me,” Mark said brokenly. “Behind the wall.”

“Shit,” Christian muttered. “Just hold on. I’m coming, okay? Hang in there a minute. Okay?”

Mark mumbled something, the phone slipping from his fingers again as the darkness suffocated him like a blanket.

He woke to the sound of footsteps crunching on the gravel. His body jumped violently and he cried out with the fresh pain biting through him. He instantly froze, clamping his mouth shut, trying not to draw attention to himself. He wasn’t safe here. He couldn’t let it happen again.

He saw legs coming towards him and he groaned involuntarily, curling his legs up towards his chest, the pain stretching out with each dragging movement. He babbled incoherently, pleading, his eyes squeezing tightly shut. When the hand landed on his shoulder he jolted as though he’d been electrocuted.

“Mark.”

The voice sounded familiar. Mark opened his eyes, the world swimming in front of him, distant and out of focus. He blinked and tears spilled down his face. Nothing became clearer.

“It’s okay,” the voice assured him, soft and gentle. “It’s me. It’s Christian.”

Mark blinked again. His eyes were stinging and raw. He let himself hope that this was nearly over.

“We need to call someone,” Christian stated.

Mark shook his head. “No,” he pleaded. “Home.”

“I’ll phone the police,” Christian said.

“No,” Mark repeated. “No no no. No police. Home.”

“Mark, we have to phone the police,” Christian said firmly. “It’s okay, I’m going to stay with you, I promise.”

“I...” Mark began, reaching out a shaky hand, trying to find some purchase. Christian’s hand gripped his own, a gentle reassurance. “Don’t tell,” Mark implored.

“Mark,” Christian said sadly. He squeezed Mark’s hand. “I have to.”

“Home,” Mark said again.

“Soon,” Christian told him, taking his phone from his pocket.

Mark tried to dig his fingernails into Christian’s hand, to claw at him, but he was too weak to do anything. He listened hazily to Christian making the call, a fresh wave of nausea hitting him as he heard Christian using _that word_. Mark hadn’t let himself think that word yet, as clear as it was what had happened to him. His body tensed and the pain ripped through him again. He could feel himself begin to shake.

“They’re on their way,” Christian stated. “Do you, uh...” He hesitated. Mark cracked his eyes open and saw Christian looking down his body. “Do you want me to help you with your clothes?”

Mark whimpered. He pictured Christian’s hands on him, touching him down there, and he felt utterly repulsed. He shook his head. He pulled his hand from Christian’s gentle grip, his fingers feeling less numb now, and he reached down, managing to get his jeans mostly back up. He toyed with the button for a second and then let his hands fall away.

“Here,” Christian told him. He’d slipped his jacket off and he laid it over Mark’s shivering body. Mark’s fingers gripped at the material, clinging to it.

He thought he might have passed out again somewhere in the time that followed. He heard vehicles, heard voices, but he was only half-aware of what they were saying. Lights were shone on him, hands touching him, and he lashed out, groaning unintelligibly, but his heavy limbs wouldn’t cooperate and he found himself subdued terrifyingly quickly.

Christian’s soothing voice cut through everything else, even though Mark wasn’t quite sure what he was saying. There were blankets, the sensation of being lifted, and then a hypnotic, soothing motion that sent him back off to sleep.

He only remembered snippets of what came next; doctors and bright lights and examinations and treatments. There were questions, Christian’s irritated voice, soft, gentle murmurs. It all swam in and out of Mark’s consciousness until he wasn’t sure if any of it was real at all.

When he awoke fully it was light out and Christian was sitting by his bedside. He shifted in his seat when he saw Mark was awake, leaning over towards him.

“Hey,” he said gently.

Mark didn’t say anything, just looked around at his surroundings. He had a private room at least, but this was the last place in the world he wanted to be. Well, second last place. He could still be behind that wall. Maybe he could thank Christian for that much, even if he had brought his here.

Christian lifted a glass of water from beside the bed, offering it out to Mark. Mark’s mouth was so dry, his tongue feeling swollen and coated with an unpleasant taste that made him want to gag, but he pushed the glass away with the back of his hand. He didn’t know where that drink had come from. He could wait until he got home.

“The doctors say you’re in pretty good shape,” Christian offered, clearly trying to find something to say. “There’s some bruising, a couple of, uh, stitches. No permanent damage.”

“You’re not family,” Mark said. The words were slightly slurred and Mark wondered how much the drugs were still affecting him. He wondered what the fuck he’d been given.

“What?” Christian asked, looking confused.

“They shouldn’t have told you,” Mark stated.

Christian sat back slightly. “Sorry.”

Mark looked at him. “Can I go home now?”

“Uh, the police just need to ask some questions,” Christian told him. “You weren’t in a fit state last night really.”

Mark looked down at his lap. “I don’t remember.”

“No, they said you probably wouldn’t,” Christian agreed.

“I want to go home,” Mark said, his voice small and childlike.

Christian nodded. “I’ll take you. They just need a really quick word.”

Mark looked around. “Where are my clothes?”

“They, uh, they needed them for evidence,” Christian explained. Mark felt sick. “We’ll sort you out with something to go home in. Why don’t I go tell them you’re awake and then I can go find something for you to wear while they ask you a couple of questions. Okay?”

Mark just shrugged. Christian reached out with his hand, clearly intending to pat Mark’s arm reassuringly, but he stopped himself at the last second, offering a kind smile instead.

When Christian left the room, Mark shuffled himself higher up in the bed, making himself look taller. He ignored the sickening pulling sensation inside him, the sharp pains stabbing at him like pins. He took a breath, composing himself before the two police officers came in.

Their questions seemed pointless to Mark. He remembered the wine tasting event at the pub, remembered getting tipsy and thinking it was probably time to start heading home. After that, he couldn’t quite piece anything together. He looked the policemen in the eye as he spoke though, didn’t let himself flinch from the more graphic questions. He settled his face into one of strong composure, not wanting to give them any excuse to pity him. If he seemed okay, maybe everyone would just leave him alone and he could make this disappear.

When Christian returned, Mark felt himself sag slightly, but he forced himself to remain strong. Christian handed him the worn, clearly second hand clothes, asking as tactfully as he could if Mark needed any help. Mark sent him from the room, resolved to get on with it on his own. He ignored the fact that the thought of anyone’s hands but his own made him want to wretch and curl himself into a ball.

The sweatpants were too short, the T-shirt too big. Christian took one look at him and his expression settled into one of practically unbearable pity. Mark looked away, picking up his belongings from beside the bed; his phone and wallet and keys.

“They didn’t have any jumpers,” Christian said regrettably. “Maybe we can borrow a blanket.”

“It’s not that cold,” Mark assured him, just wanting to get out of there. When they stepped outside, the gentle breeze passed over his body like knives.

They drove in silence, the radio turned off. Mark sat up tall in the seat, staring straight ahead, hands clasped together in his lap. Christian hovered behind him as he let himself into the house, the dogs practically knocking him over in their excitement at his return. Mark smiled, touched by their affection.

“Do you want me to take them for a walk?” Christian offered, following him into the house uninvited. “They’ll have been cooped up all day.”

“I can deal with it,” Mark told him, ushering the dogs into the kitchen and putting down some biscuits for them.

“I know you can,” Christian replied carefully. “But why don’t you let me do it? Go take a shower, get into your own clothes. By the time you’re done the dogs will be walked and I’ll get out of your hair so you can relax. Sound good?”

Mark shrugged, staring done at the dogs, hungrily eating the biscuits. “Suppose that makes sense,” he admitted.

Christian nodded, collecting up the dog leads, and managed to coax them away from the food long enough to get them out the door. Mark felt himself sag as the door closed behind them, an empty feeling settling inside him. He headed to the fridge, taking out a sealed bottle of water and cracking it open. He took a swig, swilling it around his mouth and then spitting it out in the sink, trying to rid himself of the disgusting taste of stale vomit and whatever else lay heavy in his mouth. He didn’t want to think about it. He rinsed his mouth again and then took a small sip, swallowing it down. It was cold and slightly unpleasant in his hollow belly. He sipped again, allowing a little trickle down his throat, then put the cap back on, heading upstairs to the shower.

He set the temperature to be scaldingly hot and then closed his eyes as he stepped under the stream. He tilted his head back, imagining the layers of grime and filth sliding off him and making their way down the plughole. He didn’t want to look to find out the truth of it. He couldn’t face what might really be coming off him.

He scrubbed his body over three times until his skin was raw and painful and he felt a sob welling up in his throat. He fought it back, shutting off the water and towelling over his skin. It felt like he was rubbing himself with sandpaper. The mirror was steamed over, offering only a faint ripple of his presence, and somehow it seemed like the most honest reflection of all.

He picked out some old comfortable jeans and a snugly hoodie, taking the stairs slowly and trying to ignore the ache through every part of his body. He felt like he’d had the shit beaten out of him and it worried him that he had no idea how true that was. The location of his stitches left little to the imagination, the bruises shadowing his hips and thighs offering further evidence, but what else? He had no idea how long he’d been attacked for, with what kind of ferocity, or even what passion. No, that was worse. The violence was easier for him to file away in his mind.

Christian was sat on his sofa in the living room, offering him a kind but slightly awkward smile. “Dogs are all walked and fed,” he announced, trying to sound cheery. “And I made you a cup of tea.”

Mark eyed it on the table. It made his stomach turn. “Thanks, mate.”

“Do you want me to make you something to eat before I go?” Christian offered.

Mark shook his head. “I’ve got some stuff in the freezer I can throw in the oven. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Christian agreed. He hesitated, clearly not wanting to go.

Mark shifted on his feet. He’d sit down, his legs were tired, protesting the act of holding him up, but he didn’t want Christian to see the inevitable wince of pain as he lowered himself onto the seat.

“Thanks for coming to get me last night,” Mark said, not quite looking at Christian. “And for looking after the dogs and... Thanks. I wasn’t really with it and I didn’t know who to call.”

“No problem,” Christian assured him, getting to his feet. “And if you need anything else, don’t hesitate to call again, alright? I can stay now if you want, I don’t mind. Keep you company.”

Mark shook his head. “I just want to be on my own to be honest, mate,” he said. “Just chill out, cuddle the dogs, watch some TV.”

Christian smiled. “Sounds nice.”

“Shouldn’t you be at work, anyway?” Mark asked.

“I called this morning, told them I wouldn’t be in,” Christian replied. He must have seen the flash of panic pass over Mark’s face. “I told them I had a family emergency,” Christian assured him. “If they hear anything, it won’t be from me.”

Mark nodded. He looked at Christian. “Family?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Christian said firmly. “Family.” He grabbed his jacket from the back of the sofa, pulling it on. “And I’ll have my phone beside me if you need anything, even if you just want to talk.”

“I’ll be fine,” Mark insisted. “Just wanna put it behind me and move on, mate.”

Christian nodded but there was a sad note of pity in his eyes. Mark had to look away.

As soon as Christian was gone, Mark took the cup of tea and poured it down the sink. He took a fresh bottle of water from the fridge and called the dogs back through to the living room with him. They clambered onto the sofa either side of him, snuggling in close, and Mark felt such comfort in their warm, loving presence. He petted them one at a time as he sipped from his bottle of water, slow, measured swallows to try and keep his churning stomach under control. He stayed there until it was starting to get dark and the dogs began to fuss, telling him it was time for their evening walk.

“Yeah, alright, boys,” he finally relented, getting stiffly to his feet.

He slipped his trainers on before retrieving his coat from the hook by the door. Christian had left the leads on the counter and Mark picked them up in his hand, glancing out of the window. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He couldn’t handle taking them out into the woods tonight. A few laps around the garden would have to suffice.

He opened the door, the cool evening air hitting him like a bucket of freezing water. The wind ruffled through his hair, sliding over his skull, mocking him. He pulled his coat tighter around his body and forced himself to take a step forward. The dogs ran on ahead of him across the lawn. Just one step from his own doorway and Mark felt dangerously exposed.

“Shadow,” he called, hearing the terrified waver in his own voice. “Simba.”

Maybe he should grab their leads, put them on, force them to stay close to him. They’d protect. Wouldn’t they? Could anyone?

His heart was thundering in his chest as he squinted into the darkness, just making out the happy shapes of the bounding dogs on the big lawn. He took another step, eyes shifting around the darkness. There was space between him and the house, a space that someone could use to sneak up behind him, grab him, force him to the ground.

He shivered, rushing backwards over the threshold of the house and slamming the door shut. As he moved over to the window to keep an eye on the dogs he realised that his hands were shaking. He couldn’t even step outside his own door without having some kind of panic attack. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so pathetic in his entire life.

He watched from the window, trying to get his breathing under control and slow his pulse down so that it didn’t feel like his heart was going to explode out of his chest. He’d go back out in a minute, he assured himself. He just needed to get a grip on himself. After fifteen minutes, it became clear to him that he wasn’t going to make it outside, not tonight. He called the dogs back in, grateful when they came running to him straight away, double checking all the locks were fastened as he shut himself in for the night.

He forced some dry toast down, scratchy against his throat, and then decided it was time to call it a night. He still felt slightly sluggish and he couldn’t tell if it was the drugs or the attack or the emotional exhaustion that was weighing him down. He stripped down to his underwear and instantly felt too exposed, digging out a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt to wear instead. As he climbed between the cool sheets, shuffling to get comfortable, he closed his eyes and hoped for heavy oblivion to claim him fully until morning. Instead he found himself staring at the murky ceiling, afraid to look at the clock, the passing of minutes too painful a prospect. He couldn’t deal with his own thoughts right now; he didn’t know where they might take him.

He turned onto his side, hugging the duvet tightly as he curled himself up, twinges of pain stabbing at his insides, and he could feel the tears sliding down his face before he even understood what they meant. He felt so helpless, so tiny and alone. He felt like maybe he’d been irreparably damaged and one wrong step would shatter him into a million pieces. He felt dirty and used and disgusting and repulsive. He wanted to climb back under that burning hot shower and scrub and scrub until his skin peeled away, taking all the shame and humiliation with it.

He was sobbing now, gripping the duvet with white knuckles and rocking slightly against his damp pillow. He didn’t deserve this. He repeated the words over and over in his own head until they lost all meaning. _He didn’t deserve this._ He clung to the truth of it, hoping that they it somehow make him feel less like a filthy animal. If nothing else, they eventually lulled him off to sleep.

The next morning he found himself acutely aware that he’d lost a whole day of training, but his body still didn’t quite feel his own. A flashing thought told him that maybe it would never quite feel like his own again. He managed to force his regular breakfast down, telling himself that if he just followed his normal routine he’d feel so much better.

He showered, dressed, grabbed the dog leads, but he still couldn’t make himself leave the doorstep. It was daylight, nothing bad was going to happen to him, and he didn’t even have to leave the garden if he didn’t want. All he had to do was leave the doorway. He took a deep breath, followed by another one, and then he felt the surrender practically consume him as he stepped back inside his house, watching the dogs from the window.

He got a text from Christian as he stood there, feeling like he was in a glass bubble, disconnected from the real world. _Let me know if you need anything._ The dogs chased each other on the lawn, looking happy and energetic. Mark envied them. He turned back to his phone.

_Thanks mate but I’ve got it all under control._

When the dogs were safely back inside he headed into the gym, knowing that the endorphins of a good workout would help level him out a bit. He considered his options, every piece of equipment looking painful and unpleasant to him. He felt delicate, something he wasn’t used to even when he broke his leg. That was an injury he could make sense of, a straightforward broken bone, and he worked with his trainer to set up a routine around it that aided his recovery. He definitely wasn’t about to go to Roger and ask him how he could train around this. It was just something he was going to have to deal with.

He turned his back on the gym, accepting the fact that maybe his body would need another couple of days to stop being so shaky and sore before he could pick up the exercise routine again. He’d never been very good at staying still, but he found a certain relief in folding himself back down onto his sofa with a sealed bottle of water, the dogs curled up around him once again.

When this continued for two more days, he was starting to feel claustrophobic and stir crazy. He used the boredom to numb him, clinging to the monotony of having nothing to do, but it was grating at him and it wasn’t fair on the dogs. They needed to get out for some real exercise and he still couldn’t push himself past the doorstep.

“Hello,” Christian greeted as he picked up the phone. “It’s nice to hear from you.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I need to ask a favour, actually,” Mark admitted.

“Go ahead,” Christian encouraged. “What can I do?”

“This is so stupid,” Mark muttered, mostly to himself. “Look, mate, I just need someone to take the dogs for a walk this evening. I haven’t really been able to get out with them and they could use a bit of exercise.”

“No problem,” Christian told him. “I’m sure I can manage that. Do you need anything bringing when I come over?”

“No, don’t worry, if you could just take the dogs out for me that would be amazing,” Mark assured him. “In fact, I’ll make you dinner to pay you back. If you can stay, I mean, I don’t want to presume...”

“I’d love to,” Christian cut in. “I’ll come around about six, take the dogs for a nice long walk, then we can eat.”

“Thank you,” Mark said, hoping his innumerable gratitude came through in his voice.

He made an effort to tidy up before Christian arrived, but he had to admit that he didn’t get very far. He saw Christian’s eyes sliding around the kitchen as he stepped into the house and he knew he should have tried harder. If he looked like a wreck, it was only going to make Christian worry. He didn’t want to be a burden.

“Sorry about this,” Mark told him. “It’s just not fair on the boys to be cooped up all the time.”

“And what about you?” Christian asked. “Are you getting out at all?”

Mark took a breath, getting ready to speak, but then he just sighed. He sat down at the counter. Christian’s face flickered with sympathy and Mark had to look away.

“Well, where are they?” Christian asked, glancing around the room. “I’ve been sat at a desk all day, I could do with stretching my own legs to be honest.”

“They’ve taken over the sofa,” Mark told him. He whistled, calling out their names, and the two dogs came running through, practically knocking Christian off his feet. “Alright, boys, calm down,” Mark chided, tickling them playfully. “Don’t you go pulling Christian’s arms off. I need you to bring him back in one piece, alright?”

“Sure you don’t want to come with us?” Christian offered.

“Nah,” Mark dismissed, slipping off his seat to usher the dogs towards the door, fetching the leads for Christian on his way. “Someone has to stay here and get this tucker sorted, matey.”

Christian smiled. “Well, I’m about to work up an appetite so it better be good.”

Mark shut the door behind them as they headed out, the house settling into silence around him. It made him feel uneasy. He didn’t live in the middle of nowhere, he reminded himself. It was quiet, but it wasn’t remote. He was safe here. He’d thought that about his own pub though. If his own staff weren’t interested in keeping him safe then why should his neighbours care?

He pushed the thoughts away, opening the cupboards and forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. Supplies were running low but he managed to pull together a decent enough pasta dish, feeling pretty pleased with himself. It was the most productive thing he’d managed to do in days.

“It’s freezing out there,” Christian complained as he stepped inside, a rush of excited dogs following in his wake.

“They look happy,” Mark stated, smiling as he petted them affectionately before nudging them out of the way as he set the food on the table. “Thanks for that.”

“Smells good,” Christian commented, slipping out of his coat and rubbing his obviously cold hands together.

Mark shrugged, slipping into the booth and waiting for Christian to join him.

“I don’t know how you keep up with them,” Christian stated, picking up his fork and spearing a piece of pasta. “Wore me out.”

“That’s just because you’re getting old,” Mark told him.

“You’re no spring chicken yourself,” Christian shot back.

“I’m a professional athlete, mate,” Mark stated. “Top of my game.” He tried to smile but the words left him feeling slightly sad. He didn’t feel like a man at his peak right now. He felt like someone broken down and wounded.

He took a breath and concentrated on his meal. The conversation between he and Christian wasn’t exactly flowing but it was easy enough and Mark appreciated the distraction. It always seemed dangerous to let his mind wander now.

When the meal was finished, Mark found himself worried that Christian would leave. He should leave of course, he doubtless had better things to do, but Mark wasn’t quite ready to be on his own again.

“Do you want some ice cream?” he offered as he cleared away the plates.

“Sounds good,” Christian agreed. “Now that I’ve warmed up a bit.”

Mark headed to the freezer, opening it up and taking out the too familiar container. He peered inside, looking at Christian somewhat sheepishly. “Not much left,” he admitted. “Diet’s fallen a bit by the wayside this week.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Christian told him, shaking his head slightly.

Mark sighed, grabbing two bowls. “I’d done really fucking well too. I’ve been training extra hard, getting in top shape. Now the thought of even sitting on the exercise bike makes me...” He trailed off. He was sure Christian could imagine how unpleasant it would be in Mark’s current state, he really didn’t need it spelling out to him.

“Mark, that’s not important right now,” Christian insisted. “There’s plenty of time to pick up the training again when you’re up to it.”

Mark sat back down again, sliding one of the bowls of ice cream over to Christian as he sagged against the backrest. “I know I wasn’t perfect, but I’d done a good job,” he said, and he wondered if he was trying to convince Christian or if he was really just trying to make himself feel better. “I know I had the odd biscuit when I shouldn’t. And I shouldn’t have been drinking, I know that, but it was only the wine tasting, it’s a big event, it does the place good for me to show my face. It was just tasting, I only had a bit. I was tipsy but...” he trailed off, raising his head to look Christian in the eye. “I wasn’t drunk. I really fucking wasn’t.”

“Mark,” Christian said, his voice firm but kind. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Mark looked down at his ice cream, poking at it with his spoon. His skin felt too tight, tingly in a way that made his stomach turn. Tears pricked at his eyes as his breaths began to come out more ragged and uneven. They were the words that he’d been shamelessly fishing for, of course they were, but he found that he couldn’t take any real comfort in them, and that was even worse.

“Why don’t I come and walk the dogs again tomorrow morning,” Christian suggested. Mark looked up at him, blinking away the dampness in his eyes as though he could really hide it. “Then I can take you down to the shops. You can get more ice cream and whatever else you need.”

“Don’t you have better things to do?” Mark asked. He didn’t mean to sound so petulant and an apology sprung immediately to his lips but Christian didn’t give him a chance to say it.

“No, I really don’t,” Christian insisted. “What time do you usually take them?”

Mark shook his head. “Look, mate, I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

“You’re not,” Christian assured him. “I’d feel a lot better if I knew you were okay.”

Mark looked down again. He was very far from being okay. “I usually take them around seven,” he stated, words directed towards his melting dessert. “But you can come later. Or earlier.”

“I’ll be here at seven,” Christian told him. “Bracing walk like that will wake me up nicely for work.”

Mark’s lips quirked up into a small smile. “Yeah, it definitely does that.” He raised his eyes up to look at Christian. He wanted to say something but all he could think of were pathetic apologies or creeping thanks so he decided it was best if he kept his mouth shut.

The next morning, true to his word, Christian arrived bright and early to take the dogs out. While they were gone, Mark jumped in the shower, dressing in clothes that felt slightly less like a comfort blanket for once. He considered his face in the mirror. There were dark circles under his eyes and he was in serious need of a shave. He picked up the razor, contemplating it, but the thought of dragging it over his skin made him feel vaguely nauseous. Christian would just have to put up with walking around the supermarket with someone who looked like they’d been sleeping on a park bench.

When the time came, Mark fussed with the dogs for longer than necessary and he could tell that Christian knew he was stalling. The thought of walking out that door was still more than a little daunting, even in daylight, even with his friend.

Christian opened the door, stepping outside, the cold air entering the house and chilling Mark at the other end of the kitchen. He looked over to see Christian stood just outside on the patio, hands in his pockets as he moved slightly from side to side, looking out over the garden. Mark sighed. The message was clear. It was time for him to get his shit together.

He crossed the kitchen and stood in the doorway, still feeling the remnants of warmth against his back. He felt a horrible sense of foreboding at the thought of losing that sensation. Christian turned to look at him.

“Ready?”

Mark nodded. “Yeah.” He didn’t move though. He couldn’t.

“It’s perfectly safe,” Christian told him. “We’re just walking to the car.”

“Yeah,” Mark agreed, glancing across to Christian’s Infiniti. He could feel Christian’s eyes on him, making him feel tiny and stupid. His patience must be wearing thin by now. “Right,” he said, turning around to pull the door closed behind him. It felt so final that it made his chest tighten. His hand was shaking as he tried to get the key into the lock.

“Do you want me to do it?” Christian offered.

“I can manage,” Mark said, a little more harshly than he intended.

Christian took a step back, giving him some space. As Mark finally managed to work the key, Christian pressed the button to unlock the car. Mark turned, keeping his eyes focused firmly on the passenger door as he walked swiftly across the driveway, heart pounding. As he climbed inside, slamming the door shut behind him, he felt a ridiculous sense of relief, slumping into the chair with a sigh.

“Good work,” Christian told him, climbing in his own side and pulling the door shut.

Mark gave a humourless laugh, raising his eyebrows at Christian. “Are you joking?”

“No,” Christian said matter of factly, turning his key in the ignition to start the engine. “I’m really not.”

They set off in silence but it reminded Mark too much of the trip back from the hospital so he reached out, fiddling with the radio. Christian had a load of boring talk radio stations on his presets so Mark had to retune it to find something decent. He finally found a song he liked, turning it up and tapping his foot along to the beat. Christian looked over at him.

“What?” Mark asked.

“Nothing,” Christian replied with a small smile, focusing back on the road. “Just, you know, make yourself at home, Mark.”

“Your stations are shit, I’m not listening to those,” Mark told him.

Christian smiled wider. “Fair enough.”

Getting back out of the car wasn’t quite such an ordeal. Mark felt his heart rate rising as Christian parked the car, anticipation prickling uncomfortably at his skin, but he took a couple of breaths, reminding himself that he was in a public place, nothing would happen to him here. There was still a tiny, irrational part of his brain that told him to take nothing for granted though.

Christian followed his lead, waiting until Mark opened his door before climbing out himself. Mark felt vulnerable as they walked across the car park, not quite able to hold his head up high. He felt like the force of the wind was enough to tear him apart. Once they were inside, he distracted himself with pushing the trolley around, examining every item on the shelf as he walked slowly around in an attempt to not stop his mind from wandering. This was a million miles away from closing time at a pub in the country. There was nothing for him to be scared of here.

He picked out all the healthy options, determined to get his diet and training back on track. He’d work something out with the exercise. He couldn’t get on the exercise bike and hiking was out of the question if he couldn’t even leave his own front door without a waiting car metres away and a friendly face, but with a whole home gym at his disposal there had to be something he could do. It was too close to the start of the new season to let all his hard work fall apart now.

“Can I drive back?” Mark asked as they piled the bags into the car. The thought of driving down the country roads, the focus of it, feeling the car effortlessly respond to his whims, it felt soothing.

“You’re not insured to drive my car,” was Christian’s predictable response.

“I’m not going to wreck it, mate,” Mark said wearily. “I am a professional.”

“I’ve seen you,” Christian said. “You like to make them do backflips.”

Mark gave him a look. “Pretty hard to do that in a road car.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Christian replied, taking hold of the trolley as they emptied the last bag. “I’ll drive.”

The motion of the car still felt soothing to Mark, even though he wasn’t in the driving seat. It felt safe to let his mind wander here. He liked the speed, the easy way Christian took the corners. Sometimes Mark forgot he was a racing driver in another life.

“When we’ve unpacked the shopping we can go for a drive if you like,” Christian suggested. “You can take me for a spin in your 911.”

Mark smiled slightly at the thought. He felt sleepy now though, slouched comfortably in his seat. “Don’t you have to get to work?”

“I have a meeting at half past one,” Christian stated. “I’m sure the place won’t fall apart without me before then.”

Mark shrugged. “I’m going to try and have a workout.”

Christian looked at him, concern etched over his features. “Go easy on yourself. Slow and gentle.”

Mark rolled his eyes, looking out of the window. “I need to work off all this fucking ice cream and sitting on my arse.”

“You’re recovering, Mark,” Christian said firmly.

Mark clenched his jaw, clasping his hands together and squeezing tightly as though his own hold could offer him any comfort. He avoided catching sight of himself naked now. It sickened him, even without the bruises, dark in colour bleeding to a jaundiced yellow. He couldn’t stand the thought of being exposed, even to himself.

Sometimes he felt like he should have more to show for it than a couple of stitches that tugged pain through each step and some obscenely positioned contusions. He felt like he should be bloody and raw from head to toe. It would be easier to deal with that than everything he had gnawing away inside his brain, the doubts and the fears and the self-loathing.

“I have bruises,” he stated, keeping his body turned towards the passenger door. “On my hips and my thighs.”

Christian stayed silent. He probably knew that, Mark realised. He was at the hospital. Maybe he even saw. The thought was more validating than it was degrading. Mark wasn’t sure what to make of that reaction.

“I can’t work it out,” Mark continued. “Why they’re there. I can’t have been struggling. I wasn’t even conscious. Was I?”

He heard Christian shift in his seat. The car seemed to be going slower now, but Mark wasn’t sure if that was just his imagination.

“I think you should talk to Roger before you start any kind of workout routine,” Christian finally said.

Mark turned to look at him. “What?”

“I just think that...”

“No, no one’s finding out about this,” Mark insisted, feeling the panic rising up in him. His breaths were coming too fast and he didn’t feel like he was getting enough air in. “Don’t you dare tell anyone.”

“I won’t,” Christian assured him.

“It’s bad enough you had to get the police involved,” Mark said.

Christian looked at him sideways and then clearly decided to let that one go. “I just think that you could benefit from certain people knowing about this so they could make allowances,” Christian reasoned. “Roger. Maybe Ciaron.” Mark shook his head. Hot tears were starting to well up in his eyes. “Mark, no one is going to judge you for this,” Christian insisted.

Mark squeezed his eyes shut tightly, his cheeks burning red. It sounded so petty, so superficial, when Christian laid it out like that. He’d never cared about people’s opinions before, but nothing had ever made him feel this deep, aching sense of shame either. He didn’t want this to be a reflection on who he was; weak, pathetic, a victim. More than anything though he couldn’t stand the thought of people treating him like he was going to break because he was scared that he might use it as an excuse to fall apart.

He opened his eyes, staring out of the windscreen as he let out a shaky breath. “I can handle it on my own,” he said. “I don’t need any _allowances_.”

Christian nodded. “Understood.”

They pulled into Mark’s driveway and Mark shot from the car, fumbling with his keys to get into the house as quickly as possible. Christian helped him carry the bags in, clearly trying to make himself useful as he began to put away the fridge items. Mark found himself leaning back against the counter, arms crossed, watching him.

“I’ll come back this evening,” Christian told him, his voice casual as he concentrated on his task. “Take the dogs out again for you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Mark told him.

“I’m not a babysitter,” Christian responded. “I’m a dog walker.”

Mark couldn’t help his lips curving up into a smile. “Do I have to cook for you again?”

“Well, you have got all this food,” Christian pointed out.

Mark let his arms drop down to his sides, his stance relaxing slightly. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Alright.”

They settled into a routine over the next few days. Christian would arrive early, taking the dogs out for a walk, and Mark would have a cup of coffee ready for him when he returned, warming him up again before his drive to work. He’d return in the evening, the dogs greeting him enthusiastically, knowing what his arrival signalled. Mark would cook a healthy balanced meal while Christian was out with the dogs, joking that following the diet of an F1 driver certainly wasn’t going to hurt Christian.

They’d sit together at the table in the kitchen, Christian making easy small talk about the developments at the factory, the finishing touches that were going on the new car, and Mark sat back and listened to his soothing voice with interest. Racing was something he understood. Maybe everything would be alright when he got back in that car.

Mark attempted to get some kind of workout routine going, but it was sporadic and painful at best. He tried standing on the exercise bike, but he didn’t feel like he was working the right areas and it still hurt. Gradually he came to stand it for a little longer every day but it didn’t offer him much in the way of satisfaction. He did some weights and strength training, the boredom of it almost worse than the physical discomfort a real workout would cause him, and he still knew he was falling short of the full body workout he needed to be fit for the tests in just under two weeks.

On the third night of Christian’s company, as they ate fish and grilled vegetables, Mark found himself picking at his food, the nervous kind of anticipation laying heavy in his gut instead of the familiar anxious panic he’d been living with lately. There was a comfort in the unremarkableness of that.

“I was thinking,” Mark began, eyes still focused on his plate.

“Oh, yeah?” Christian prompted.

“If you’re going to be here every day,” Mark continued, sitting forward slightly to slide a hand into his back pocket. He pulled the small object out, placing it on the table between them. “I just wondered if you wanted a key. Then you can let yourself in to get the dogs, you don’t have to wait around for me if I’m getting on with something or being lazy and don’t feel like getting out of bed.”

Christian smiled, reaching over and taking the key. “Thank you,” he said, pulling his own bunch of keys out of his pocket and adding on the new addition. “I appreciate that.” Mark shrugged as Christian returned his keys to his pocket. “Does this mean I’m not getting a cup of coffee in the mornings anymore?”

Mark smiled, spearing a piece of fish and bringing it up to his mouth. “I could probably still manage that.”

The next morning, Mark listened from the living room as Christian let himself into the house. He felt himself tighten at the sound of the door unlocking, fear creeping up his spine as it swung open, leaving him completely vulnerable to all the dangers that were outside, threatening to break in and consume him. Then Christian called out a greeting to him and Mark smiled at the way the dogs instantly reacted to his arrival. Everything was as it should be.

It was Mark’s main motive for giving Christian the key; letting that little bit of the outside come in and trusting that it wouldn’t lapse out of his control. Mark wasn’t quite ready to step outside that door yet, but this felt like a step in the right direction, inviting a safe little part of the world inside with him. There was another smaller, perhaps more important, reason for giving Christian that key though. It gave him a security to know that, whatever happened, Christian would always be able to get to him, even if he was locked away and shattered into a million tiny pieces on the floor.

That moment came at the worst possible time; the day before he was due into the factory for simulator work. During his morning visit, Christian had offered to give him a lift into work the next day. He’d be there anyway and they were going to the same place. It made sense. As attractive as the idea was, Mark had declined. He needed to do something for himself.

As he sat down in the kitchen with his lunch, he scanned idly over Twitter on his phone. What he saw on his timeline made his freeze mid-chew, the food in his mouth making him want to wretch. He scrolled through it, his whole body getting uncomfortably hot in an instant, sweat prickling almost painfully at his skin. He dropped the phone, rushing across the room to the sink as his head spun violently, spitting out the food and the vomit that came with it.

He sunk to the floor, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand as his heartbeat thundered in his ear, breaths shallow and far too frantic. Snippets of what he’d just read stuck to the inside of his brain, taunting him over and over. The ones that offered sympathy and support were the worst of all. They knew. Everyone fucking knew.

Simba came over to investigate what he was doing but Mark pushed him away, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms tightly around them, feeling himself begin to shake. He knew it was a mistake to let Christian go to the police. He knew something like this was going to happen. He didn’t want to have to go through this in public with everyone looking and feeling sorry for him. He could deal with this if the only person he had to answer to was himself.

He thought about it now, laying there, clothes dishevelled, in a pool of his own vomit while the drugs clouded his brain and Christian knelt above him, knowing exactly what he was doing. Mark didn’t have the power to stop him in that moment. He didn’t have any power at all. Christian had no fucking right to go against his wishes like that. It was an abuse of power to force Mark into owning up to what had happened to him when it would have been so easy just to sweep it under the carpet and let Mark get on with his life without the humiliation of everyone knowing how he was bent over and...

A sob ripped through his body, making him wretch again. He couldn’t stand up to get to the sink so he just leaned himself sideways, spitting bile onto the floor. He disgusted himself. He crawled across the kitchen, fetching his phone from the table and sitting back against the bench seats as he opened up his contacts.

“Hi,” Christian greeted. “Do you need something bringing when I come back this evening?”

“Did you tell?” Mark asked. His voice sounded dark and broken.

“Tell?” Christian asked, the confusion clear in his voice. “Mark, what are you talking about?”

“Because you promised me,” Mark said, hating the way his voice cracked as he spoke. He didn’t want to be weak anymore. He hated feeling so tiny and defenceless. He took a breath. “You promised me no one would know. And they know.”

“Who knows?” Christian asked. “Mark, I haven’t said anything.”

“You fucking promised me, Christian,” Mark said, the words spat out through gritted teeth. “No media. It’s all over fucking Twitter.”

“Shit,” Christian said. “Hang on, just give me a minute. I don’t know anything about this.”

Mark squeezed his eyes shut, imagining Christian reading those comments. It made his face flush with embarrassment, an unpleasant squirmy feeling in his gut. Not like this, he thought. He didn’t want the people he cared about to find out like this, through speculation and pity.

“Okay,” Christian said. He paused, clearly not knowing what came next. “Well, when I spoke to the police at the time it was understood that this was to be handled delicately and privately,” he begun. “But they had to interview everyone who was there that night, Mark. I’m guessing one of them spoke.”

“You mean someone who works for me?” Mark asked. “Someone I pay.” The betrayal hurt more than he thought it should.

“Or one of the patrons who was there that night,” Christian suggested. “I don’t know.”

Mark shook his head. “I don’t like this,” he said, his voice pitifully small. “No one was supposed to know.”

“Just keep your head down,” Christian advised him. “Stay off the Internet, don’t talk to anyone. I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’m supposed to be at the factory tomorrow,” Mark pointed out. “I can’t walk in there knowing that everyone knows. The looks and the questions and...”

“No one is going to say anything to you,” Christian insisted. “I’ll make sure.”

“What are you going to do?” Mark asked snidely. “Call a meeting? Send a fucking memo round?”

“I will have it under control by the time you get here tomorrow,” Christian assured him. “This will not be an issue. If I hear of anyone acting less than professionally about this then they will be seriously reprimanded.”

“Are you my protector?” Mark asked dully, not quite managing to express his sarcasm. He just felt tired. He felt like giving up.

“I’ll sort it,” Christian insisted. “Don’t answer the phone unless you know who it is. When I get there tonight we’ll...”

“I don’t want you to come tonight,” Mark told him.

Christian paused. “Mark...”

“Or tomorrow,” Mark told him. “Don’t come.”

He heard Christian swallow. “Who’s going to walk the dogs?”

“Fuck off,” Mark told him harshly, feeling his anger bubbling over. “Just fuck right off, okay? I can look after my own dogs. I can look after my own mess. I don’t need you following me around all the time. Stay away, alright?”

“Yeah,” Christian said, his voice carefully measured. “Alright.”

Mark sighed, sagging back against the bench. “I have to go.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Christian told him. “When you come into the factory.”

“Yeah,” Mark agreed numbly.

“You’re here to work,” Christian stated. “I assure you that fact will be respected.”

Mark rolled his eyes, hanging up the phone. He didn’t know how long he sat there before he finally found the strength in his legs to make him stand. He wiped the floor clean with some kitchen roll and rinsed out the sink. He wanted to stop thinking. He wanted to stop existing, just for a little while. The sight of the alcohol cupboard turned his stomach. He considered the painkillers he’d been given by the hospital. They made him drowsy sometimes. Maybe if he took double, they’d make him sleep. He knew it was too risky though and he’d never dare try it. Why would he put himself in a position where something like this could happen to him again.

He went upstairs, changing into his workout gear and climbing onto the exercise bike. He didn’t stand this time. The endorphins would make him feel good and he knew from experience that any pain threshold could be pushed through if you wanted it badly enough. He set off spinning, ignoring the stabs of pain that seemed to shoot right through his intestines, concentrating instead on the satisfying rise in his heart rate as the muscles in his legs finally came alive after days of apathy. As his breaths became more ragged he began to feel like the blood and oxygen was pumping through his body properly, clearing out all the gunk.

When he was finally done there was only a couple of spots of blood. That wasn’t so bad. He didn’t think he’d broken anything. No more than it was already anyway.

The predictable phone call from his parents came that afternoon, when he was sat on the sofa feeling achy and sore, his dogs snuggled up beside him. He knew all the things they were going to say before they said them. They were hurt that he hadn’t told them what had happened to him. They were worried about him. They wanted to come over and look after him.

He assured them over and over that he was fine, everything was fine, he was getting the help and support he needed and there was really no need for them to make such a long trip. They didn’t buy it so in the end he was forced to tell them the truth. If they came over here and let him lean on them then he didn’t think he’d ever be able to pick himself up. He had to be strong and find a way to take his life back for himself or he knew this was going to destroy him. His father, at least, accepted that mentality. His mother didn’t say a word.

Around the time that Christian normally arrived, Mark started to get a gnawing feeling inside his stomach. He let the dogs out into the garden and he could sense their disappointment. He stood on the doorstep for a couple of minutes, daring himself to go and join them, but the air was cold and still, reminding him of that night. He closed the door and watched through the window.

There was no joy in cooking for himself. He went through the motions but he merely picked at it while he sat slouched in front of the TV. The dogs mooched around like they were missing their master. Mark knew the feeling.

The next morning he was tempted not to get out of bed at all. The task of driving to the factory, of all those people seeing him and _knowing_ , it seemed insurmountable. He showered, stared at his ever more ragged reflection, and then dressed in comfortable clothes, pulling a Red Bull cap down until it nearly covered his eyes.

Once he got himself locked securely in his car, he found the drive to be incredibly calming. It was nice to have something be under his control for once, and the car handled effortlessly, responsive to his instruction, not doing anything he didn’t expect. He wished that everything could be as easy as this.

He parked up in the car park outside the factory and stared at the building for twenty minutes. He was late now, Ciaron would be waiting for him, but he couldn’t make himself move. He felt sick down to his stomach, his head heavy and swimming, sweat pooling in the small of his back and dampening his hands where they clung onto the steering wheel. It was so tempting to just turn the key in the ignition and set off home again. That would only make the rumours worse though. Mark was sure there must be rumours, whispered words in huddled groups. _Poor Mark, did you hear what happened to him? I don’t know how he can bear to live with himself._

His fingers curled tighter around the steering wheel, a dampness collecting in his eyes. He wasn’t going to play the fucking victim for anyone. Holding his head up high might be a bit ambitious, but he could sure as fuck walk into that building.

He flung the door open, slamming it shut again and pressing the button to lock it as he walked with purpose across the car park and into the lobby. He felt his shoulders instantly hunch up as soon as he stepped through the door, instinctively taking on a protective stance. He kept his eyes on the floor, not daring to meet anyone’s gaze, not even checking to see who was looking. He was grateful that the layout of the factory was so familiar to him, something close to a second home. Everything else was hotel rooms and functions and never ending flights that didn’t seem to ever really _take_ him anywhere.

He rushed through the door into the simulator room with more force than was necessary, shrugging off his jacket and throwing it on a chair without looking up at Ciaron.

“Hi,” Ciaron offered, holding out a headset for him. “You going to take your hat off so you can see where you’re going?”

Mark took the cap from his head, tossing it down on top of his coat and running a hand through his hair. He looked over at Ciaron, steeling himself up for the look of judgement he was sure he’d see in return, but he saw Ciaron’s face as blank and relaxed as ever.

“Sorry I’m late,” Mark told him, feeling bad for being so defensive.

“Are you late?” Ciaron asked innocently, already busying himself with setting up the simulation. Mark took the hint and put on the headset, climbing inside the car.

He didn’t get off to a good start. His heart was still pounding and his concentration was shot, too distracted by everything he imagined was going on around him. Every tiny mistake shook his confidence further until he was so frustrated he could barely find the racing line at all. He screwed his eyes shut, fighting the urge to climb out and give up.

“Okay, Mark, let’s just take some deep breaths,” Ciaron suggested, his calming voice feeding straight into Mark’s ear, just like it did during a race. “There’s nothing but me and you and the car in here, that’s all we need to worry about. Concentrate on finding the apex and nailing your braking points. A clean focus, that’s what we need. Let’s start over, whenever you’re ready.”

Mark nodded, breathing in deep and slow, trying to calm his heart rate. He could feel it working, his body coming back under his control, and he tried his best to let his mind follow. He opened his eyes, looking at the new start/finish line Ciaron had loaded up in front of him.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

“Right,” Ciaron agreed. “Show them what we’ve got.”

Mark couldn’t help but smile. How many times had it felt like he and Ciaron against the world, or at least against the rest of the grid. This was something he could understand, a fight he could win, and with that revelation he found the race track coming towards him in a way he could handle. He tested his braking points, pushed his limits and came out victorious, even if it was only against himself.

When he and Ciaron finally finished up for the day, Mark knew what he had to do. Knocking on Christian’s office door he felt like a naughty child being called to the head teacher’s office. Christian called him inside and Mark closed the door behind himself, leaning against it.

“Hello,” Christian greeted, offering him a pleased smile. “How did it go today?”

“Good,” Mark nodded. “Yeah, it was good. Once I managed to get myself in the zone.”

“Glad to hear it,” Christian told him. “I’ll check out the data with Ciaron later.”

“Yeah,” Mark agreed. He clasped his hands together, playing with his own fingers. “I didn’t take the dogs out last night. Or this morning.”

Christian nodded his understanding. “I can come around tonight,” he offered. “I’ve missed them actually.”

Mark smiled. “I think they’ve missed you too.”

Christian shifted in his seat, reaching into his pocket. “I was wondering if you wanted the key back actually,” he said.

Mark shook his head. “Keep it,” he said. “I think I might go take a long bath, chill out. You’ll probably need it.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Christian agreed. “Pamper yourself a bit.”

Mark shrugged. Maybe he did deserve that.

That night, as he was soaking in the tub, eyes closed and head back, he heard his front door downstairs, heard the excitement of the dogs as they saw Christian. He smiled to himself, listening as the door slammed shut a further time, signalling their departure, and he let himself slide beneath the water, coming up feeling satisfyingly cleansed.

He was curled up in front of the TV wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt when he heard Christian and the dogs return. “I made you a coffee,” he called. “If you’ve got time.”

Christian came through without his coat on, rubbing his hands together. “You’re a star,” he said, sitting down beside Mark and reaching to take the cup from the table, wrapping both hands around it to warm them. He took a sip, sighing deeply. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” Mark replied. “Nice and toasty.”

“Good for you,” Christian grumbled. “I’m sure it’s getting colder out there.”

Mark smiled. “You love it, mate.”

Christian leaned back against the sofa cushions, looking completely at home. “You know what? I really do. Even the part where they try to pull me through the biggest puddle they can find.”

Mark couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’ve trained them well.”

Life settled back into something that Mark felt like he could deal with. He stayed off the internet and unplugged his home phone line, knowing that anyone who really needed to get a hold of him would use his mobile where he had the security of the caller ID letting him know what he was in for. His parents called every day and Christian still came morning and night to walk the dogs, staying longer after each visit, and Mark found that he was enjoying his company more and more.

The factory was still a daunting place, but he found that he was fine so long as he kept his head down and headed straight for the simulator room where he and Ciaron would spend their time uninterrupted. He never made eye-contact with anyone else and he didn’t stop long enough to hear the whispers that he was sure must be following him around.

He had to admit that having everything out in the open made it easier for him to finally get the help he needed from Roger with his workouts. They put together a training programme that would help him exercise around his condition in a healthy way without putting him at risk of complications. Being able to do something more productive with his days was definitely good for his self-esteem, giving him that get up and go he felt like he’d been lacking for too long now.

“Go on, off you go with Christian,” Mark chided, pushing Shadow over towards the door.

“I think he’s trying to tell you something,” Christian stated, smiling.

“Like what?” Mark asked guardedly as Shadow nuzzled him again.

“Like maybe you’re ready for walkies again,” Christian suggested.

Mark glanced towards the window. The darkness outside made his stomach flip over unpleasantly. “I don’t think so,” he responded, the words directed down at Shadow as he gave him another nudge.

“Never know until you try,” Christian told him, opening the door and ushering the dogs outside. He gave Mark a playful look before closing the door behind them.

Mark stood staring, lost in thought. When was the last time he’d tried? Before he got back into the groove with his simulator work, before he started training again with Roger. Leaving the house and making the short trip to the car no longer filled him with terror, only slight unease. Maybe joining Christian for a walk with the dogs wasn’t entirely out of his grasp.

“Ask me tomorrow,” Mark stated over dinner. “When it’s light.”

Christian looked up at him. “Ask you what?”

Mark smiled to himself. Sometimes he forgot that Christian wasn’t inside his head with him. “Ask me if I want to take the dogs out with you,” he explained. Christian’s eyes lit up slightly. Mark looked down at his plate. “No promises,” he told him. “Just ask.”

“Okay,” Christian agreed. “I will.”

Mark stood on the doorstep, looking out over the garden. The sun was out but the air still had a bite to it. Perfect dog walking weather. He thrust his hands into his pockets, fingering the keys that were buried inside. The dogs were running around boisterously until Christian called them. Mark smiled as they ran over to him, letting him put on their leads. He didn’t think he’d ever seen them respond to anyone as well as they responded to Christian. He was still toying with the keys in his pocket when Christian turned to look at him. Mark felt everything in him tighten, a primal instinct to danger being close by.

“Maybe a short one?” he suggested.

“We only have to go as far as you want,” Christian assured him.

Mark nodded, squinting in the sunlight as he looked out over the garden and the surrounding fields. A beautiful day for a walk. He turned around and closed the door, turning his key in the lock. Christian offered him a smile as he turned and walked towards him.

They didn’t go near the woods, Mark making sure to steer them towards the open areas where nothing could be lurking. He never quite let his guard down, eyes wandering constantly, checking everything out, not daring to go more than a couple of steps away from Christian’s side. It was obvious that the dogs had missed him though, jumping at him and bringing him sticks to throw. It felt nice to be out in the open instead of hidden away inside. He lasted ten minutes before he had to ask Christian if they could turn back towards the house and he thought that was a pretty good start.

Christian knew better than to invite him out in the dark, but the next morning Mark joined him again. They took the same route and Mark found some comfort in that fact. He knew all the places to look along this path now, all the dark spaces where danger could be hiding.

“Are you worried about today?” Christian asked. Mark just shrugged, eyeing the trees they were coming up towards. “You seem tense.”

“I’m in the middle of fucking nowhere,” Mark stated.

“You’re not,” Christian dismissed. “And I’m here. You’re fine.”

“Yeah,” Mark responded sarcastically. “My tiny, middle-class bodyguard.” Christian gave him a look. “I’m okay,” Mark told him, offering him another helpless shrug. He had to be okay, he had no other choice.

It would be his first media event since everything that had happened. He knew that the attack, and the fact that everyone knew about it, was irrelevant. All he had to do was talk about the new car and the upcoming season, that was it. He didn’t even have to be particularly eloquent about it, it would all be edited together later to make something smooth and professional looking. Still, the scrutiny of a camera lens, the act of having to look people in the eye all day, the worry of trying not to look like a total wreck for all the world to see, he wasn’t exactly looking forward to it.

Babs met him at the factory door with a smile and an itinerary for him. Some things never changed. She led him to where they were doing the filming, talking him through what was in store for the day. He found her momentum put him at ease as he took a copy of the schedule. If today just kept moving, maybe he could get through it and be out of there before he really had time to stop and think. He knew what these filming days were like though. Too much sitting around and making small talk.

Seb was sitting with a few of the guys at a table, laughing about something, but his face dropped the second he saw Mark, as though Mark wouldn’t appreciate seeing people having fun while his own life was so wretched. Mark wasn’t sure whether to turn around and walk out again or just throttle the ignorant kid. He settled for taking a breath and approaching the group, trying his best not to shy away from Seb’s gaze.

“Alright?” Mark asked. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“I wasn’t,” Seb responded with a complete lack of conviction. He stuck out his hand. “It’s good to see you. How was your break?”

Mark looked down at Seb’s hand. If he didn’t accept the invitation it was going to ring alarm bells for everyone in the room and make him look even more like a basket case. They’d all walk on eggshells around him and talk about him behind his back and spend far too much energy feeling sorry for him. Mark didn’t need anyone to feel sorry for him. The only person who should be worried about Mark was Mark. Everyone else needed to keep their fucking noses out.

He clasped Seb’s hand in his own, aware that he was gripping a little tighter than was necessary. He couldn’t stand the thought of Seb coming away from him thinking he was weak. Overcompensating was equally pathetic though and the fact that his palm was sweating so much would leave Seb in no doubt as to what a mess he was.

“Had better vacations,” he responded dryly.

Seb’s eyes flicked away. Mark wondered if he was just trying to make Seb uncomfortable now. So much for not drawing attention to himself. He looked around the faces at the table and then craned to see the car across the room.

“Think I’ll go check the new office out,” he stated. “Excuse me.”

There were nods and murmurs and, Mark was sure, a great sense of relief as he left the table.

The day dragged slowly. Mark made an effort to hold his head up, to join in the frivolous discussions, to sit with the guys, but he felt certain that everyone could read the discomfort radiating from him. He kept catching himself hunching over protectively in his seat, more focussed on his own hands than what was going on around him. The chatter in the room was too noisy for him, disorientating him so that he didn’t seem to be able to pick out the individual conversations properly and usually missed his cue when someone was talking to him. He had to excuse himself to the bathroom so often to go and sit in the cool quiet of a toilet stall that he was sure everyone was starting to give up on his sanity.

The worst moment came when the intern came to ask if they’d like anything to drink. She jotted down their requests on a pad of paper and Mark hesitated. He was thirsty and he knew he’d need something before filming his interview, but he didn’t like the thought of this stranger preparing a beverage for him. She could do absolutely anything to it. As the others ordered teas and coffees he settled on a bottled water. She smiled politely and headed on her way. Mark leaned his elbows on the table, trying his hardest to follow whatever Seb was talking about, when a glass of water was placed down in front of him along with a half-empty bottle of water.

“Here you go,” the girl smiled.

“What’s this?” Mark asked, looking at it as if she’d just placed a cup of piss in front of him. The whole table went silent.

“I’m sorry?” she asked, looking lost. “You asked for water, didn’t you?”

“Why have you opened it?” Mark demanded.

“I thought you might want a glass,” she stated helplessly.

“I don’t,” Mark said bluntly. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

“I’m sorry,” she said earnestly, a quaver in her voice. Mark looked up at her and instantly felt like a total shit. Her face was red, eyes wide and frantic. “I’ll get you another one.”

“No,” he dismissed. “No, it’s fine. I’ll go grab one myself.”

“I’m really sorry,” she said again.

“Forget it,” he told her. “It’s my fault, I should’ve been clearer. Sorry. I’ll just go get my own.”

She nodded and stepped away from the table. Mark had probably put her off the industry for life. He noticed the looks being exchanged around the table. He’d finally lost it just like they all thought he would. He wondered if they’d made bets on how long he’d last before falling apart. He got to his feet, trying his best to make it look like he wasn’t storming out of the room. He knew that when that door swung shut behind him, he was going to be the only topic of conversation.

He found talking about the car and the new season relatively painless after that. It was nice to have something to focus on, the clear direction of the questions guiding his thought process. He knew what was expected of him once the camera was turned on. He felt self-conscious, worried that people would scrutinise the video in search of his haunted eyes and uneasy posture, looking for evidence that he wasn’t coping. He was certain that they’d find it. He made sure his voice was strong and his answers clear and confident though, determined to show that he could at least do his job right, even if everything else was falling apart.

By the time he finally finished up for the day, he was shaky but still in one piece. He had to count that as a win. He was collecting up his things as Christian approached.

“You did a good job there,” he stated. “A lot of stuff we can use. That’s great, thanks, Mark.”

Mark snorted a laugh. “I didn’t do any more than anyone else, mate.”

Christian shrugged. “It’s all relative.”

Mark looked down. He knew Christian didn’t mean for the words to make him feel small, but they did. It was like Christian viewed him as the kid with the gimpy leg who finally got to the top of the climbing frame.

“I was looking at your simulator data too,” Christian continued. “You’ve been doing a good job. Looks like you could put together a good campaign this year.”

Mark smiled, looking up at him. “Well,” he said with a shrug. “I gotta try.”

Christian smiled back, his eyes warm and pleased. “Glad to hear it.”

Mark nodded, slinging his bag onto his shoulder. He glanced at the door and then hesitated for a moment before turning back towards Christian, holding out his hand.

“Thanks, mate,” he said.

Christian grasped his hand, surprise flashing over his face as Mark pulled him in for a hug. It was brief, offering Christian two slaps on the back before he was retreating right out of his personal space. It left him slightly overwhelmed though, the sensation of a body against his own, if only for a brief second. It was something he’d been avoiding the very idea of.

He felt like he had a different understanding of the human body now. There was so much that shifted under the surface; a pumping heart with it’s sickening thump of blood, demanding lungs that sucked air raspingly into them, a stomach full of bile, burning away. And then, so close to the surface beneath the thin and fragile skin, muscles that held the potential to crush and hurt and devastate. He couldn’t see it as a thing of beauty anymore. He couldn’t see the fucking attraction in it at all.

Christian’s body was warm though and Mark knew on some base level that it offered no threat to him. Mark had no interest in staying close to him for longer than it took to show the depth of his gratitude for everything Christian had done for him, but it was reassuring that he wasn’t instantly filled with loathing at the feel of another crude and flawed body being so close to his own.

“I’ll be around tonight,” Christian told him. “Take the dogs out.”

Mark nodded. “I appreciate it.”

“Cook me something nice and we’ll call it even,” Christian winked.

As Mark left the building he wondered if he was up to going to the supermarket on his own. Christian deserved a proper meal. Mark owed him at least that much.


End file.
